


Campaign 2 Drabbles

by anticupid16



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/F, Gen, Jester gambling, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Platonic Relationships, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-03-03 19:45:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13348224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anticupid16/pseuds/anticupid16
Summary: I know, I know, the first episode isn't even over yet, I'M SORRY





	1. The First Tail of Frumpkin

**Author's Note:**

> i'm sorry about the pun

“So, uh,” Nott fidgeted with her cloak. “You’ve thanked me but you said--?”

“Yes, somebody else to thank you just a moment.” 

Caleb gestured for the goblin girl to turn around and quickly cast the spell to produce an orange cat in his arms. “All right,” he prompted. 

As soon as Nott had turned, the cat jumped (at Caleb’s request) into Nott’s arms. Her yellow eyes went wide and she looked from the top of the cat’s furry head to Caleb a few times rapidly. 

“Did you have this cat in your coat the whole time? That doesn’t seem too safe!” 

Caleb reached out and scratched the cat behind its ears. “He’s a magic cat. Can’t keep him around all the time, all I’ve got room to carry is books.” 

“A magic cat?!” Nott’s voice squeaked. “How much magic can you do?” 

“Enough,” Caleb shrugged. “Frumpkin here is some of it.” 

Needless to say, this was one of Frumpkin’s better impromptu introductions.


	2. beau's thoughts on being carried

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> literally as soon as this scene happened I was writing

It may have been a bluff, the whole keeping her staff thing, but by the time that tall piece of dreamy was reaching out to carry her, Beau was feeling pretty good about her decisions. Given a front row seat to the muscles of Yasha’s arms and shoulders? Yes please, she’d step right up! Well, more of a slump, though Beau was still trying to keep it casual. 

“Will you hold me through the show?” Beau asked. Her vantage point made watching Yasha’s expression a little difficult but she thought maybe her request was being considered…

Her words got away from her just a little as she mentioned Jester and oh-so-cooly asked if Yasha could just cradle her during the show. But then Beau is hearing the five gold price tag and feeling her stomach sink in disappointment. 

“These arms are worth a lot,” Yasha said nonchalantly. 

And that was when Beau realized she’d left all of her ‘cool’ back with her staff and oh boy was Yasha just ten times hotter.


	3. Jester Learns to Play Cards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jester is the cutest tiefling in the world and I would die for her

Perhaps it was a little too early in the morning to go in search of pastries, but what was a poor tiefling to do? Jester had woken up after a well deserved night’s sleep and she’d woken up hungry! True, it was a couple of hours before sunrise, but Jester still thought it awfully rude for the tavern owner to yell at her when she asked for breakfast. Which was why Jester found herself wandering around the city trying to let her nose lead the way. Unfortunately, it seemed that the two nearby bakeries had not yet begun baking, much less open for customers, so Jester was forced to wander deeper into the city. 

Most windows were still darkened, doors shut firmly against the dark night. But as Jester turned down a couple more streets, she thought she heard voices. Early risers, maybe? Bakeries were some of the first places open in the mornings so if these people were awake so early perhaps they’d know where Jester could satisfy her hunger. Another turned corner and Jester discovered the voices were echoing out from an alley behind a dilapidated, but lit up, building. 

There was a half scrawled sign in newish paint, proclaiming the establishment to be some sort of tavern. A glance through the lit window, though, showed Jester only a disgruntled looking barkeep hassling a dwarf slumped over on his stool, his beard dragging through a puddle of ale foam that had spilled onto the counter. The voices in the alleyway grew and took on tones of excitement, and Jester quickly moved to the side of the building to peer around and watch. 

There were two half-elfs, a human, and a gnome gathered around an overturned crate. One of the half-elfs was dealing out cards to the other three, who took them up and looked at the cards before pushing bets forward. The coins glittering in the light of a few lamps they’d set on the surface of the crate caught Jester’s eyes. While mostly copper, there were a few silver pieces mixed in with the pile there. 

“Bets?” the half-elf asked, shuffling the cards quickly and gesturing to his companions. Each of them placed an additional three copper coins on the pile in front of them, and then an exchange of cards took place between each of them and the dealer. Jester watched as the gnome’s clumsy hands fumbled with the cards in her hands, before she placed them in front of her and grinned broadly. It appeared she had won the game, and she put her hands around the pile of coins, challenging her companions to raise the stakes. 

“Oi!” the human called out, and though Jester tried to sink back into the shadows, he stood and pointed to her. “Who’s that?” 

The gnome was quickly scooping coins into a pouch at her side, a frantic look in her eyes as Jester came into the soft circle of light coming from their lanterns. All four of the players seemed to relax upon seeing her, though not by much. 

“Doesn’t look like a guard,” the dealer said with a shrug, still shuffling the cards on the crate in front of him. “You play?” 

“What game are you playing?” Jester asked, tilting her head. 

“You’ve never played?” the human asked, eyes narrowed suspiciously. Jester shook her head. “It’ll cost you a silver piece to play for the first time and learn.” 

Jester hesitated for only a second before producing a silver piece and placing it in the very center of the crate. The gnome had successfully collected all of her winnings and was standing up, seemingly ready to leave the game. 

“Not staying Wron?” the dealer asked, barely looking up. 

“I don’t fancy contending against beginner’s luck,” the gnome responded cheerfully, winking at Jester. Jester smiled in return. 

“Beginner’s luck?” she asked, looking between the other players, each of whom had put forward a silver coin. 

“Don’t you know about beginner’s luck?” the half-elf player asked, her eyelashes fluttering as she blinked at Jester. “Oh honey, you’re practically guaranteed to win!” 

“I like the sound of that,” Jester mused, looking at the dealer. “So how do we play?” He gave a short explanation, and the game decidedly didn’t sound too difficult. Soon, Jester was holding her first set of cards, trying to decide whether or not she should give up one in hopes of gaining another of the same kind. She already had two, so she decided to risk it. Then, prompted by the dealer, she dropped three copper coins on top of the silver, same as the other two. 

“I win!” she exclaimed after the three players had put down their cards. She eyed the silver pieces in the center, and nodded her head in determination before pulling out another. “Round two?” Once again, Jester won the round, and once again she declined collecting her earnings to place a third silver piece in the center of the pile. 

This time, though, her cards were not as good the first time around as she’d hoped they would be. When the second round of betting called for five copper pieces, Jester ran her fingers over what she had left in her pouch. Just seven copper pieces, down to two if she lost the round. Deciding the game was fun enough to make the risk worth it, and crossing her fingers for some more beginner’s luck, Jester obliged the bet and offered her five copper pieces. 

And she lost. The other two hands were similar, and the dealer demanded the players split the pot, leaving Jester to watch her silver and copper be divided between the others.   
“Another round?” the dealer asked, shuffling the cards again. Jester felt the two copper pieces in her pouch and sighed sadly. She wondered if she’d be able to convince them to start the bets so low as one copper, and then cheat her way into a winning hand. But now, as she watched the half-elf dealing, she realized that his hands were too practiced, and the expression on the other half-elf was much more keen than it had been before. 

“I think not,” Jester said, shaking her head. “Do you play here often? This game is quite fun, and I would like to come back when I can.” 

The three enthusiastically invited Jester to return to their alleyway games, and Jester smiled as she walked away, the rising sun at her back. As she walked, she rolled a single silver coin through her fingers, which she’d managed to nick from the pile before she lost the last round. With that silver, she bought a worn deck of cards from a street vendor as well as two flakey pastries. By the end of the afternoon, Jester had learned how to hide a card up her sleeve, deftly steal an additional one while shuffling, and how to conceal a coin or two under the discarded cards to slip into her pocket afterwards.


	4. beginnings of a friendship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> basically, Molly and Beau are my new brotp

Molly didn’t always take well to the people who were more entranced by Yasha than by him. Maybe it was his own selfishness, but he really didn’t care to spend a lot of time analyzing that part of his personality. The moment Yasha had put the monk over her shoulder, Molly knew that it had begun. He was a fan of the chase himself, and he enjoyed watching others play it out as well. 

But when the show descended into disaster and the second Beau he’d met as of late turned out to be quite handy in a fight, he decided that she might be worth her salt to keep around. In the confusion that was his arrest, Molly was primarily concentrating on how he was going to get out of this situation, but he overheard enough of the conversation that took place as he and Gustave and Bo were lead away. Turned out that Beau wasn’t a fan of jails either. 

She looked about as happy as he’d been to be in chains when the Crownsguard dragged her in out of nowhere. He managed to hold back his short laughter until she’d been followed in by her traveling friends. By the time he’d gathered himself and was preparing to return to the carnival site, they’d emerged again. 

As they began making their way to the tavern, Molly found himself falling into step with Beau. “You’re a bit of a disaster, you know that?” he commented, twirling a piece of a long earring that he wore around one of his fingers. 

“Yeah,” Beau said casually with a shrug. “Your point?” 

“Ever consider being in a carnival? We collect disasters.” 

“Do you now?” Beau asked, and there was a glint in her eye that told Molly she was thinking of somebody tall, brooding and mysteriously vanished. 

Molly eyed the bright blue vestments of the monk and over her staff. “Yes, we do. But of course, it’s a rough life. Lots of living out of bags and meeting new people you’ll never remember.” 

“I’ll think about it,” Beau said, crossing her arms as they entered the tavern. Molly quickly got sidetracked from there by the promise of ale, and the investigation they all seemed to be undertaking about their mysteriously dirty friend and his goblin companion. 

Molly knew that he was going to get along with this Beau the moment they both began patting down their pockets when the small goblin said she had sticky fingers. Great minds think alike, after all. So he paid attention while Beau discussed the town she grew up in, the winery that her parents owned. Yasha or no, he planned to keep an eye on this one. She’d make a great addition to the carnival…


	5. the poncho

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> inspired by this post on tumblr and originally posted there https://fivegoldpieces.tumblr.com/post/172690510080/headcanon-where-jester-always-asks-to-borrow

Beau had gotten used to rooming with Jester. Well, as used to it as she could. Jester was excitable and liked to jump up and down when she talked, whether that was over the creaky floorboard that always managed to exist in taverns or the bed. Really the only time that Jester wasn’t loud was when she was working over that little notebook she had. Beau had tried to look over her shoulder once while she washed up for the night, but Jester had hurriedly hidden whatever it was she was drawing and blushed bright violet. 

Every morning, Beau made a point of offering her jacket to Jester before putting it on. This was because at some point in the afternoon, Jester would inevitably ask for it. The first time, they were approaching a corner with a few crowns guard on it, and Jester immediately tugged on the corner of Beau’s poncho. 

“I need to hide my pastries! You know how the guards are, taking anything sweet.” Jester had pouted and batted her eyelashes and tilted her head so that Beau couldn’t really say no. 

“Fine,” she’d said, shoving her staff out towards whomever was closest and yanking the poncho over her head. Jester was grinning by the time her head reemerged and she helped the tiefling arrange the poncho over her satchel full of sweets. “There,” Beau said gruffly, tucking some of Jester’s hair back around her horns where they were sticking up from the static of pulling the poncho on. 

That night at the inn, Jester swallowed too large a bite of pastry and spent a good twenty minutes coughing up crumbs and powdery sugar. It finally stopped when Beau handed her the waterskin from her pack and urged her to just drink until the coughing stopped. 

“Aw, are you worried about me?” Jester asked, grinning as she did. 

“No, but the coughing is making it hard to sleep man,” Beau said, shrugging. Jester pouted for the rest of the night until the lights were out. For a few minutes, Beau thought that for once Jester was actually going to fall asleep instead of talking incessantly while Beau tried to ignore. 

“I think technically, you were worried about me choking, technically,” Jester said quietly. It almost sounded like she was asking Beau to care about it, which seemed a little odd. Beau signed into the darkness and put her hands behind her head. 

“Fine, sure. I don’t want you choking on a pastry.” Jester made some sort of happy noise, and resumed her usual ramblings about the day and how much she liked their companions, mentioning the Traveler here and there. Beau found that she actually enjoyed listening to the rambling, and was soon lulled to sleep by Jester’s voice. 

Once again in the morning, Beau held out her poncho to Jester after staring out the window at the cold and dreary sky. 

“Oh no, I’ll be fine,” Jester said, smiling brightly as she combed her hair in the mirror above the fireplace. Beau raised her eyebrow and Jester turned around and nodded. “Yes, I’ll be fine.” 

Just as Beau predicted, despite having offered, when the first sprinkling of rain began to start Jester tugged on the corner of her poncho and pouted up at her. 

“Oh come on,” Beau groaned, her shoulders slumping. “I offered this morning!” 

“But it wasn’t actually raining this morning, actually, and I don’t want to catch a cold!” 

“You should’ve thought of that when you didn’t pack a good coat for yourself,” Beau said, starting to walk again. 

“I didn’t have a lot of time to pack, you know,” Jester said, doggedly following Beau and then getting in front of her. Jester began to walk backwards, her eyes focused on Beau’s face and her lower lip starting to tremble in its pout. “Please Beau? Please, please, please?” 

“What, so I can get a cold instead?” Beau asked, though the sprinkling was so little that she really didn’t think that would happen. 

“If you get a cold I’ll take care of you! But if I get a cold, it’ll be like with the pastry and the coughing but it’ll be lots of sniffling, and water won’t fix it and—“ 

“All right,” Beau exhaled in defeat. Jester had a point, the sniffling would be never ending. She stopped in the road and shoved her staff towards Jester, reaching down to tug off the poncho. Once again, when she handed it off to Jester, the tiefling was smiling like a madman in triumph. She returned Beau’s staff and then tugged the poncho on, snuggling into it. Her footsteps even took on a little skip as she strolled down the road by Beau’s side. 

The next morning, Beau started to hold out the poncho to Jester, but thought better of it. When Jester asked for the jacket later because the sun had gone behind the clouds and she was starting to get chilly, Beau had already handed off her staff and was pulling the jacket over her head before Jester had even finished her persuasion.


	6. Beau and Molly can't be shipped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically saw a post on tumblr about all the potential ways ship scenarios could play out with a platonic friendship between Beau and Molly and I had to write the thing

It wasn’t really important how Molly and Beau got separated from the group, but what was important was that the inn only had one room left. With one bed. Beau had opened her mouth and leaned her elbow against the table, about to try and bully her way into at least a cot, but Molly had clapped a hand over her mouth. 

“Thank you, we’ll take it,” he said, grinning at the innkeep, who didn’t seem too thrilled at receiving such a grin from a tiefling. 

As they walked up the stairs, Beau crossed her arms and glared at the back of Molly’s head. “You can have the bed,” she said gruffly, eyeing the bruise on the back of his neck from their latest encounter. “You probably need it more.” 

“Not at all,” Molly retorted, stopping just in front of the door. Beau barely noticed his pause in time to avoid running into his back. “You took far more hits than I did today.” 

Which, well, was true. Beau could feel the ache in her muscles, especially when she lifted her arm back to take her staff down. But damnit if she was going to look weak in front of Mollymauk of all people. Even as he sat down on the spindly chair by the window and started to take off his boots, Beau was leaning her staff against the wall and eyeing the floor. There was a threadbare carpet by the door, and that was probably the warmest spot anyways. 

“I’ll sleep here, you get some real rest,” she said, gesturing to the rug. 

Molly paused with his foot comically in the air, boot halfway down his calf. His eyes met Beau’s and narrowed. Oh boy, she could smell a challenge, and she smirked in response, already moving to sit cross-legged on the floor. 

“Look Unpleasant One, you’re already a bit of a grump in the mornings, I’d hate to see what sleeping on the floorboards does for your disposition.” 

“I’m a bit of a grump because Jester wakes up at the crack of dawn and has the energy of twenty toddlers,” Beau responded, though affectionately, because really she did like Jester’s enthusiasm. It had grown on her. 

“Nevertheless, you take the bed. I’ll be up a bit longer anyways.” 

“So will I,” Beau responded, sitting on the floor and settling herself in for meditation. “Your point?” 

After having resumed the process of pulling off his boots, Molly leaned forward so his elbows were on his knees. He tilted his head at Beau, some of the adornments on his horns clinking against them. “Well, when you’re done down there, and your ass is getting a bit sore, you’ll thank me for the bed I’m sure.” 

Well that certainly wasn’t going to happen. Beau closed her eyes and pressed her lips together, trying not to let the presence of the tiefling interfere with her meditation. Of course, she spent the entire time coming up with better and better ways to tell him off and force him to take the bed. She was halfway done with a plan to just slump over onto the carpet and pretend she’d meditated herself right to sleep when she felt and heard Molly assume a similar seated position to her right. Right on top of the damn rug. 

Beau opened one of her eyes a crack and looked over to him, where he was sitting in a position mirroring hers. He stretched his arms over his head, tilting his neck this way and that. 

“Can I help you?” she asked, using her thumb to crack the knuckles of her right hand. 

“Just getting the lay of the land. If the floorboards right here are too creaky I might move the carpet. Nothing worse than waking up in the middle of the night thinking there’s someone else in the room when it’s just the building settling.” 

“You are not sleeping on the floor,” Beau bit out, eyes fully open now. 

“I believe I am,” Molly responded, and as if to make his point, he stretched his legs out of the cross-legged position he’d been in and leaned down on his elbow, taking up the entire length of the carpet and grinning up at Beau. 

“Fine,” Beau said, standing up quickly and marching to the bed. She immediately grabbed the feather pillow at the top and tossed it over her shoulder. There was a satisfying ‘oomf’ from Molly, but she was already rolling down the covers into a bundle, which she turned around with in her arms. A few steps to the carpet, and she dropped the bundle on top of Molly. 

“Hey!” he protested, struggling to get out from under the large wool blanket. When he did, his hair was mussed and his jewelry askew. 

“If you’re sleeping there you’re at least getting the blankets,” Beau said, turning back to the bed. She hopped effortlessly onto the mattress, shifting until it was comfortable. It was a cheap hay mattress, but not too lumpy. Probably from many previous inhabitants, but she could pretend to ignore that little detail a little longer. 

“And if you get cold in the middle of the night?” Molly asked. 

Beau tilted her head down towards the floor. He’d already arranged the pillow underneath his arms and had the blanket drawn across his back. In fact, she was pretty sure he was only asking if she was sure because of his pride. He definitely looked comfortable with the arrangement. 

“I run hot anyways,” she responded, which was true. The inn had felt stifling since she entered, but they couldn’t open the shutters because of the strong winds outside. Molly just shook his head, then leaned up to blow out the candle that was still flickering on the table in front of him. 

\- - - - - 

“Fuck,” Beau moaned, leaning her elbow against the cold wall of the cave as she leaned as close to the entrance as possible. There was a thick sheet of rain pelting the ground outside, where Beau and Molly were supposed to be keeping watch. Instead, they’d gotten caught in the sudden downpour and hopped inside the mouth of the cave for shelter. Water dripped down Beau’s forehead and nose from the hair plastered to her head. 

“You’ll catch your death like that. Well, actually, that might be an improvement,” Molly said from behind her. Beau turned and immediately gagged and whirled around again. 

“Why are you naked?” she demanded, crossing her arms across her chest as if to hold herself together. She’d barely caught a glimpse of the tattooed purple skin that Molly had exposed, but that had been more than enough for her. 

“So my clothes can dry. I’ve only had this body for a couple of years, I’d hate to be so careless with it that I lose it. You should probably do the same, you know.” 

Beau pinched the bridge of her nose and looked over her shoulder for a second. Molly had turned his back towards her and was straightening his coat over a rock underneath the torch he’d lit and jammed into a crevice on the cave wall. 

“Fine, but like…. Don’t turn around.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he responded casually. Sure enough, Beau caught movement out of the corner of her eye as she started the process of tugging the cloth that stuck to her skin off. It looked like Molly was sitting facing the cave wall, his back to her and nothing too visible. 

Once she’d finally convinced the soaked material of her shirt over her head, Beau was able to spread her clothes out on a few of the cave’s rocks, not really caring if they got dusty or dirty. She extracted another torch from her pack and did something similar to what Molly had done, setting it up so the warmth from the fire could at least help the process of drying her clothes. 

But that didn’t stop Beau from shuddering a little when she settle down on the cave floor to wait for better weather. She combed her fingers through her wet hair and pulled it up tighter on the top of her head, but rivulets still dribbled down the back of her neck and down her spine. She crossed her arms and hunched forward, hoping to conserve heat. But within five more minutes, with the thick rain outside and the occasional gust of wind that made their torches sputter, Beau’s teeth were chattering. 

“God, that racket is giving me a headache,” Molly commented. “Get over here.” 

“I’m sorry, what?” Beau asked, twisting her neck so she could eye him over her shoulder. Molly had scooted in a little closer, but was still sitting with his back to her. 

“Body heat will help keep you from getting hypothermia,” he commented, also turning his head so they could make eye contact. “We can sit back-to-back. The clothes won’t be any use if you’re dead.” 

Beau must really have been cold, because she found any argument she could have prepared was stuck on her tongue. Finally, in utter defeat, she slowly rose up on her palms and feet, walking backwards on them until she was almost to Molly. She hesitated once she was in a seated position again, before she shuffled backwards awkwardly until their shoulders touched. 

Molly, like Jester, ran warm. So did Beau, but that was nothing compared to a tiefling. Hesitation gone, Beau pressed her shoulder blades into Molly’s back, sighing gratefully. Molly had tensed when she first did so, but now they were sitting back to back, watching the weak warmth of the torches dry their sopping wet clothes. 

“Thanks,” Beau muttered gratefully, if begrudgingly. 

“Don’t mention it.” 

At first it seemed as though both of them were determined to suffer this indignity in silence, but finally, Molly sniffed loudly. 

“Was this your first bath since the last time we were in a city?” he asked, sounding positively scandalized. 

“Hey, there hasn’t been a lot of time for that,” Beau protested. 

“You smell like a sailor.” 

“You’ve never even smelled a sailor!” 

“I’ve smelled Fjord.” 

“Fjord doesn’t count, you’re just being obnoxious.” 

“Your smell is obnoxious.” 

Beau laughed despite herself. “That’s hardly a comeback. What’s next, you’re going to tell me my mother smells bad?” 

“If she smells anything like you,” he responded, shifting a bit. Beau got a whiff off him of something lavender? Flowery, definitely. 

“Oh my god are you wearing perfume?” 

“No,” he said. But he said it awfully quickly. 

“You are! You put some kind of perfume on! That’s ridiculous, we literally camped in a swamp two days ago.” 

“I didn’t put on perfume!” There was a beat and Molly shifted again, his elbow brushing against Beau’s side. “It’s a scented powder and I just….dust it on.” 

“That’s even worse!” Beau laughed, doubling over a little bit, until Molly’s elbow jabbed her side. “Hey, keep that thing to yourself,” she grumbled, reaching back to return the favor. 

“What…Was that your elbow?” 

“Yes, what did you think it was? Tit for tat, man.” 

Then Molly’s hand was reaching back, brushing against Beau’s back and then the top of her arm, before finally grasping her elbow. She tried to pull her arm out of his grasp, but he was holding it with one hand, touching the skin on the very tip of her elbow with the other. 

“Dude what are you doing?” she asked, squirming as much as physically possible without accidentally starting a wrestling match. 

“How dry can your skin get?” he asked. “It’s like there’s a desert in the middle of your arm!” 

“Again, Molly, we’ve been camping. Swamps, caves. Everybody else is currently spelunking you know that right?” 

“Just because we’re roughing it doesn’t mean you can’t do some basic skincare. For gods’ sake, the skin is just going to start flaking off soon enough.” 

“Oh yeah? What do you propose I do about it?” 

“I’m sure Jester has something, just ask her! Or use some salve from that healing kit.” 

By the time their clothes were completely dry, Molly and Beau had managed to criticize everything about each other’s appearances, and without turning around and actually looking at each other once. 

\- - - - -

“They’ve already seen my face,” Jester said sadly, tilting her face down towards her glass of milk. 

“And I’m all tapped out,” Fjord groaned, rubbing his shoulder. “Who haven’t they seen?” Nott and Caleb both shook their heads. Across the table, Molly raised an eyebrow and Beau, who sighed and leaned her head back in defeat. Of course it was down to the two of them. 

“Can we at least wear disguises or something?” Beau asked. “I’m really not excited by the idea of them knowing our faces.” 

“I’ve got some tricks up my sleeve,” Molly said, and it was actually almost reassuring. 

“Oh! You should go as husband and wife!” Jester said excitedly, clasping her hands under her chin. 

Beau shuddered but then Fjord and Caleb were fucking agreeing with her. 

“This cult was looking for family units. I guess maybe it makes it easier to recruit if they recruit people who follow each other. That’s how Jester and I got them talking, pretending to be a couple,” Fjord said, crossing his arms. 

“You’ll probably have more luck that way,” Caleb added. Beau glanced around at them horrified. Pretend to be married? Bad enough. Pretend to be married to Mollymauk? Ugh. 

“We’ll be ascetics. Play up the religious angle, make ourselves some real devout followers,” Molly said, raising his drink towards Beau. 

While on the one hand, she understand what he was proposing meant as little newly-wed cuddling as possible, the idea of Molly following asceticism? Beau spluttered, the drink she’d been sipping coming up through her nose as she leaned over and starting coughing. Once half her drink was on the floor from her coughing fit, she sat up again to see Molly raising an eyebrow at her while Jester giggled at her red cheeks. 

“So we’re an ascetic married couple.” 

\- - - - - 

Once again, despite all the times this had gone poorly, Beau and Molly were on stakeout duty. While waiting for the man they were following to exit the tavern, they had been leaning against the wall, skulking in the shadows. However, every time Molly peered through the one window in the alley to the barroom, he reported back that their mark was just getting steadily drunker and drunker. 

“The first guard patrol is coming,” Molly said quietly from Beau’s side. “They’re bound to see us, especially if we’re not doing anything. That’s more suspicious than most things.” 

“You’re right.” They could already hear the chattering of the guards as they approached the alleyway, and Molly and Beau shared a look. There was one surefire way to give themselves a reason for being in this alley, one that would make the guards uncomfortable and unwilling to investigate further. 

“Fine,” Beau sighed out through her nose, reaching for Molly. She fisted her hand in the collar of his coat, and he grimaced as he stepped forward, pressing his fingertips to the wall on either side of her waist. 

“Moan,” Molly advised her, leaning his head in towards the side of her neck so that his breath fanned over it but he wasn’t actually touching her. 

So Beau let out a loud attempt at a moan. It sounded, even to herself, like she was being strangled by a cat. She tried again, going for a more convincing “I’m totally enjoying this tiefling right now” sound, but once again it was definitely not a sexy noise. 

“You’re fucking terrible at this,” Molly says, but there almost a hint of amusement there. 

“Everything all right in there?” And that would be the crownsguard. Beau once again tried to give a soft moan or a mew or whatever a sexy sound would be, but winced when she heard it. 

A hand appeared on Molly’s shoulder, pulling him away from Beau. The two crownsguard were looking over the two of them with narrowed eyes and stern expressions. 

“All right, what are you two up to?” 

“Ah what would any man be up to with a pretty girl?” Molly asked, only slightly more convincing in tone than Beau’s terrible moaning had been. The guards were not impressed. 

“Look, I don’t know what you two think you’re trying to do, but I know you’re not enjoying each other’s company. So why don’t you come with us—“ 

“Fine, fine, you got us,” Beau said, holding up her hands. Molly widened his eyes in surprise at her, but she was quite certain he didn’t want to be arrested right then either. She fumbled with a potion bottle from her pack and held it up, trusting that the dark alley would disguise what it really was. “I was just selling my friend here some of my special moonshine. I know I should be selling it through the tavern and all, but that tax really cuts into my profit margins.” 

The guard let go of Molly’s shoulder, and he immediately straightened his coat. “You do know that’s illegal, don’t you?” 

Beau shrugged and nodded. “Hardly as bad as some of the other stuff going on in there, though, right?” she nodded her head towards the tavern behind her. 

The guards shared a long-suffering glance and then one of them nodded. “All right. We’ll let you off with a warning. We’re almost off for the night anyways. But next time we find you two jokers trying to get out of that sales tax, we’re bringing you in.”

“Of course,” Molly said, nodding deeply. And then the crownsguard were heading out of the alleyway and back on patrol. 

Quickly, Molly returned to the tavern window, and swore under his breath. “He’s gone. Let’s get back to the group.” 

“And hope nobody asks you to compliment me on the way,” Beau muttered, shouldering her staff. 

“Oh please, because those noises you call a moan weren’t the reason they even came down here in the first place.” 

“Hey, I saved our asses just now! My quick thinking was what convinced them to leave!” 

“Please, the only thing convincing about that was that you’re a filthy drunkard who’d make moonshine,” Molly scoffed, crossing his arms and leading the way out of the alley. 

“That’s not true!” Beau protested, gesturing with the hand not holding her staff. “And plus, you were the one who couldn’t for the life of him look like he was enjoying himself.” 

“Again, I bring into evidence your terrible sex noises. Have you even ever had sex?” 

“Fuck you Molly.”


End file.
